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Gullible Croxin's Fate
category:Classic OtherSpace Logs Taken prisoner by the Nall after the loss of his multiverse nexus permit, General Croxin is confronted by the warrior who will pronounce his ultimate fate... Main Corridor: Engineering Deck (N'thalk) Green panels line the walls of the corridor. The ceiling is low, maybe five and a half feet high. Brown doors are interspersed throughout the hall. The walls also have yellow piping running halfway up, running their entire length. Yellow symbols in Naliese declare this the Engineering Deck. Running just underneath the yellow piping is a raised area with holes in it. A dense mist sprays out from the holes continuously and recycled by intakes in the ceiling. Into the corridor stalks a greenish-brown Nall with yellow-black eyes. In her right hand, she carries a swort sword drawn from a sheath on her left side. She swings her snout around, eye membranes flickering as she sets her gaze on the human. Croxin is sitting along the corridor's wall, trying to stay out of the way of all the Nall personnel in the small ship. He looks to the Nall wielding a short sword, and furrows his brow slightly, but doesn't say a word. Sinlathar steps along the gridwork flooring, mist swirling around her clawed feet as she closes the distance to Croxin. She waves her sword at him, hissing. "On your feet, ssssoft thing. Tonight, we learn Nalia'ssss will for your fate." The Nall warrior aims the point of her blade at the storage area, but her eyes remain locked on the human. Her forked tongue snakes out briefly, a hiss emanating from her snout. Croxin walks quietly towards the designated Storage area, hands carefully placed behind his back. Storage: Engineering Deck (N'thalk) Crates are arranged in orderly rows in this large bay-like room. Lifts and cranes move around the area, manipulating the cargo. The entire area is covered in a light, hazy mist. Sinlathar follows Croxin into the cargo hold. About a dozen Nall warriors are working the late shift, moving among the stacks of supply modules, comparing PDA inventory manifests with actual holdings. They smell Croxin before they actually see him. Soft, angry hisses rise from the workers as they slow their work to stare at the human. Sinlathar barks something at them in sibilant Naliese and the workers incline their heads and raise tattooed palms in salute to their superior before returning to their duties as if nothing is amiss. Once Croxin and Sinlathar reach the center of the bay, she prods at the human prisoner with the tip of her sword - not enough to hurt, just enough to nudge. "You losssst a nekssssussss permit?" "It was stolen from me, so yes." says the Human, whom can probably smell himself quite readily at this moment in time. At the prodding of the sword he stands a little bit taller, and clears his throat softly. "Sssstolen, you sssay," the Nall replies. She raises the blade of the sword, so polished Croxin would be able to see his reflection in the steel. The flat of the blade finally comes to rest against her right shoulder. "Our ssssourssssessss on Comorro Ssstassshun tell ussss otherwisssse." Croxin glances at the reflection in the steel, and he takes a position as if he were at ease. "I have nothing to gain by lying to you. I went unconscious, and when I woke up, all of the possessions I had on me, were taken from me. As I recovered, my crew attempted to retrieve the documents through all means available." "A convenient ekssskussse," Sinlathar snaps, fangs clicking together. Her tail lashes left and right, slowly, as she begins to pace in a sinuous circle around the prisoner. She slaps the flat of the blade against her open left palm in cadence as she walks. Step - smack. Step - smack. Step - smack. She stops as her arc takes her behind Croxin, and then turns to stare at his back. "If it issss true, then you are too sssstupid to be entrusssted with ssssomething ssso valuable. If it isss true, then Nalia'sss will sssshould sssee you culled from the galactic gene pool. If it issss falsssse, then I sssshould put you down like a mad ssssoup weasssel." Croxin's expression does not change in the slightest, and his position is still unchanging. "I do not lie about such matters of importance." he says simply. "Nor is there anything that I don't give my best in attempting." "Then you admit you are sssstupid," the Nall infers. "No. I do not. I admit that I can only give my best, and nothing more. If the best that I can give is considered stupid, then it is stupid." replies the human. "My crew and I tried until we weren't sure we'd have enough food or supplies to get back to even the nexus jumpgate. We exhausted all options, and I was planning on going back after taking on more supplies." "What issss thisss rank you have achieved?" Sinlathar inquires, resuming her circle, smacking the steel of her blade against the palm of her clawed left hand as she walks. "Ah, yesss: Gullible. You are known among your people assss Gullible Crokssssin. Yesss?" Croxin tilts his head slightly. "The rank is 'General'. The highest rank in the military I am currently in." he says simply. "You mussst have killed a mighty leader to have risssen ssso high, given your absssolute lack of professsional competenssse," the Nall observes. "Did sssshe die well? Or did you ressssort to cowardly tacticssss to achieve victory?" "I did not kill anyone to receive this rank. It was bestowed to me due to my experience with quite a few different militaries, including the Guardian Fleet. I have always found that it takes more skill to achieve a goal while refraining from killing your opponent, rather than merely killing him." the Human cites. "Ssssomeone *gifted* thissss rank of prominensssse upon you?" The Nall's jaw drops open in amusement, a soft hiss issuing from her gullet as she stops to stare at him with her yellow-black eyes. "Then the blame resssstssss equally with the incompetent who sssaw fit to grant you ssssuch authority. Who wassss thissss other ssssoft moron? Who made you Gullible Crokssssin?" "If you wish to place blame upon someone, the blame rests on me alone." Croxin says evenly. "And you should know that the mission that I set out to accomplish, was completed. The Nexus Curse is no longer a threat." "What role, ssspessssifically, did you play in the neutralissssassssion of thissss plague, Gullible Crokssssin?" the Nall warrior asks. "I provided the only thing I could do, as a warrior, for scientists. I provided protection and transportation for those whom did the actual research." Croxin says after a moment. "My government also provided them with all the tools and space that we could afford." "Your *government* helped ressssolve the crisssissss," Sinlathar clarifies, "and you played the obedient sssshauffeur. Sssshall I give a hovercab driver credit for sssaving the galakssssy if he doessss hisss job with ssssimple adequassssy? You are no hero, Gullible Crokssssin. You are a ssssoft, sssstupid creature without the good sssenssse to leave your nekssssussss permit aboard your vesssel, locked away ssssafe. You are the leader of a military that might be ssstrong enough to conquer an assssteroid occupied by rabid rodentssss, but little elsssse. Were I to sssstrike you down, it would be a hollow victory in Nalia'ssss name. I would gain more glory in her eyesss by sssswatting a gnat." Her fangs click as she regards Croxin coldly. "You will not die thissss day, Gullible Croksssin. But your actionssss have led our Vokssss to conclude onsssse and for all that the Parallaksss should have no dealingssss with La Terre. Primarily, it issss becausssse your people are consssissstently sssstupid. More sssso, per capita, than Ssssivadianssss. But, it issss alssso becausssse your world isss a hideousss aberrasssion. Dead, but ressssurrected. It issss cursssed ground. We will have no more dealingssss with it." Croxin remins quiet throughout the Nall's proclamation, and he doesn't so much as twitch as the Parallax cuts itself off from La Terre. After a few more moments of careful silence, the man's position changes to a slightly more uneasy one. "Perhaps in the future, we will change your opinion of our world." he states simply, his old American accent returning to his voice. "No," the Nall replies, shifting her snout left and right without taking her eyes off of Croxin. "That issss mosssst unlikely. Unlessss your world'ssss current populassssion isss eradicated and replasssed by Nall." Her jaw falls open once more in amusement. That said, she turns and stalks away. She stops just next to the door into the corridor to turn and call back to him: "We will deliver you to Vollisssta. From there, you musssst arrange your own transsssportassssion." And then she ducks out into the corridor.